Chapter 41
41
Hayden
senior year
My arms and legs ache from lugging the two boxes along with my oversized suitcase to my dorm room. With the elevator inconveniently out, I had no choice but to trek the two flights of stairs to the second floor.
“I think that’s the last of it,” my dad calls, entering my room behind me with his arms wrapped around a third box.
My mom follows close behind him. She walks in empty-handed as she examines my new home. “Well, this is cozy,” she comments, eyeing the bed next to mine. It’s already settled in by its occupant with navy bed sheets and a MacBook resting on the pillows.
As I turn to face my mom at the doorway, I see a friendly face enter the room as if he’s in familiar territory. “You must be Hayden,” he says, extending his hand toward me. “I’m Dexter.”
I shake his hand. “I take it this is you?” I ask, pointing to his bed. He nods, swinging his leg around the bed to slump into the soft mattress.
“I hope you don’t mind that I took this one,” he says.
I shake my head. “Not at all. Either one is fine with me.”
My dad clears his throat. “Well, we’re going to head out. We still have to check into our hotel. And we’ve got a long travel day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” I answer. I follow them both down the stairs and out to the curb where my dad’s truck is parked.
“Call us if you need anything,” my mom says with a shaky voice. “If you ever want to come home for a long weekend, just call us. I have alerts set on my phone for flights so don’t worry about the travel.”
“I will,” I say obligingly as she pulls me toward her. She clings to me for a few seconds too long before I turn to face my dad.
He pulls me in for a rough hug, brief yet warm, before patting my shoulder. “We’ll see you for Thanksgiving if you don’t visit until then.”
He lets me go and walks toward the driver’s seat, my mom pawing at the passenger seat window like a stray dog in the pound. I wave at them as they drive off.
When I walk back up to my dorm room, Dexter isn’t there, so I have the room to myself. And instead of unpacking, I lie on my bare mattress, reaching into my pocket for my phone. I have a new text message from Jenny, most likely checking in as if we were still a couple. Instead of reading it, I open my Facebook app and scroll through my feed. I land on a collection of pictures that Natalia posted just a couple of days ago. She’s in New York City, visiting all of the touristy spots. The Statue of Liberty, Times Square, Central Park, the Met.
I tap my thumb on the messenger icon, hovering over her name.
I map out a witty greeting, referencing the Big Apple and all the wonderful amenities it offers, but then I stop myself. What good will it do, reaching out to her as if I can revisit our friendship? As if nothing has changed and I would see her tomorrow afternoon in AP Bio?
But I miss her. I miss looking forward to seeing her every day, watching her giggle through her shyness and roll her eyes at every corny, cheesy joke that I make. The last time I saw her at the lake house, I wish I told her just how much I would miss her. Not something as simple as missing a friend, but more. Instead, I walked away, turning to Jenny instead because it was easier. I masked my feelings and turned to someone who felt safer, even if it was temporary.
I let Natalia go. Not that she was mine to let go in the first place, but I let go of the idea of having her in my life. As a friend, as a fellow Coolidge View alumnus. Even as a Facebook friend, only sending the occasional “congratulations” or “happy birthday” greetings. And for some reason, letting her go felt like saying goodbye to a part of me that I didn’t want to let go.
I lock my phone away and tuck it back into my pocket before I stand to open the first of my boxes, relieved when I see my bedsheets on top. While I unpack, I focus on the silent goodbye I whisper in my head, the one that’s meant for Natalia. I repeat it over and over again to myself as I wish I were saying hello again instead.
presen t
The morning glow streaming into my room shines a light on us, bringing clarity to what happened. I watch as Natalia sleeps. I watch her chest rise and fall, feeling unexpectedly calm and somber at the same time. Her mouth twitches when I run a hand through her hair to move it out of her face, and her eyes flutter in the way that I know she’s going to stay asleep for longer than I would have.
I can’t even regret what happened. Not when it all felt so fucking right. I felt it last night when I held her in my arms, and I felt it this morning when she was the first thing I saw as soon as I opened my eyes.
I pull the cover that slipped down to her waist before I carefully get up, pushing off my mattress with as little movement as possible. I leave the room quietly, moving slowly to minimize the creaking of my bedroom door.
When I walk into the kitchen, Dexter is already up, dressed and drinking a cup of coffee.
“Well, good morning, stud.” Dexter smiles at me over the rim of his coffee mug, practically saluting me as he raises his cup in my direction.
I pull at the sweatpants hanging low at my hips as I reach up into the cabinet for a mug of my own.
“Good morning,” I croak. My voice is hoarse, most likely from the screaming match I had with Natalia when she knocked on my door. And while we were having sex.
God, we had sex.
“As your roommate, may I put in a special request? Considering we share a wall?”
The steamy cup of coffee that’s making its way toward my lips stops midway. My face deadpans as I wait for this request.
“Next time you decide to bring a woman home, maybe keep the noise level down to a minimum? I’m rather fond of my eardrums and would appreciate it if you could help me keep them intact. ”
I don’t say anything. I don’t even humor him with an arrogant smirk like I normally do.
“Who is she anyway? I thought you were going over to Nat’s last night.”
Again, I don’t say anything. But when I stay quiet, he puts two and two together.
“Oh shit! Was that Nat in there?”
“Shh! She’s still sleeping,” I whisper sharply.
Dexter draws in a breath. “You are so fucked.”
“What are you talking about?”
He takes an annoyingly loud and slow slurp of his coffee. “I’m assuming you guys haven’t talked through what this means for you two.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“So, like, you two are a thing?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, shaking my head. “Right now, we’re just friends. I guess…”
Dexter’s brows rise so high, I’m actually worried they might lift off his hairline. “Last I checked, friends didn’t scream each other’s names while they climaxed.”
I stop drinking my coffee, setting it down on the counter as I stare at the warm steam rising above it. Dexter walks out of the apartment without another word, but I don’t hear him leave.
What the fuck have I done? What the fuck have we done?
As badly as I wanted it to happen last night, I’m fucking scared. I’m scared that while I’ll do anything for this to keep happening, for us to keep progressing into something, Natalia isn’t in that place. She was on a fucking date last night, for Christ’s sake.
What if she isn’t ready to move on? Or worse, what if she is but not with me?
Just as I groan into my hands, rubbing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I hear Natalia walk out of my room. She’s fully dressed, with her purse clutched between her hands and her rumpled hair tampered down as best she could do without a mirror or hair care products.
She walks up to me as her bare feet pad along the wood floor. She moves cautiously as I stand upright to meet her.
“You want some coffee? Dexter brewed some before he left.”
She keeps her gaze lowered, and her toes twiddle beneath her. “I should actually get going,” she says to the floor. She’s avoiding me.
“Nat,” I whisper.
“Carmen worries if I’m not home on the weekends when she comes home from work so…” She turns her body toward the door.
I reach for her wrist, grasping the soft skin around her pulse point as my thumb rubs into the curve of her palm. “Nat, what are you doing?”
She looks up at me. And the agony in her face pierces through my heart. I can feel her body lurch, almost as if she wants to say something that she shouldn’t. As if there’s something stopping her from baring every bit of her to me when I should be the one person she should never keep anything from.
“Nat,” I plead softly.
She lets out a frustrated sigh and starts to gnaw on her lower lip. “When you got suspended senior year, right after prom, was it because you got into a fight with Alex Spencer?”
I feel like I’ve just suffered whiplash. “What are you talking about?”
“Why did you get into a fight with Alex?” Instead of repeating her question, something that she already knows and isn’t necessarily asking for confirmation, she goes to the root of it.
“I don’t remember.”
She huffs. “Don’t lie to me. I talked to Jenny when we were at your house. She told me you guys broke up after that. Because of me.”
“Nat,” I start to say. Our eyes stay locked on each other, neither one of us backing down in our silent stand-off .
“Why did you get into a fight with Alex?” she finally asks.
“Because he fucking touched you!” I snap. “That fucking creep put his hands on you. And I saw the look on your face. Like you could still feel him touching you, and I wanted to kill him!”
“I wasn’t yours to defend,” she says in a steady voice, too calm in contrast to my angry one.
I look up at her, almost speechless. “I know that.”
“If you knew that, why did you punch him?”
“Because of everything that happened at prom. And I was…”
“You were what, Hayden?”
“I was scared!” I finally throw at her. “Is that what you want to hear?”
“Why didn’t you tell me!”
“How the hell was I supposed to tell you when you were leaving? You were so ready to move out here and live this life that I couldn’t be a part of back then. How was I supposed to tell you those things and watch you walk away from me?”
Tears start to glisten in her eyes, and she starts biting her lower lip before taking a slow, staggered breath. “Is that why you didn’t tell me about what happened between you and Matteo at the bar? Because you were scared?”
This time, I know it’s whiplash. I swerve my head toward her so quickly, I feel a twinge in my neck muscles from the sudden jerk and shock. “How did you know?”
“He told me,” she says flatly. “He came to my apartment earlier this week, and he told me you two got into a fight.”
“Why the fuck was he at your apartment?” I grit, clearly unsettled by the fact that they were together, most likely alone.
She looks away from me. “He…told me he misses me.”
“So you two are getting back together?”
“No,” she answers with a conviction that’s hard to deny. But it doesn’t matter because the anger simmering inside me is making me irrational .
“Are you sure? Because it sounds like you’re finally getting everything you want.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Matteo. Him wanting you back. Isn’t it what you’ve wanted all along?” I say it even though I know it’s not completely true. Because the possibility of her wanting me instead is going to hurt even more if I find out that it isn’t true either. Because her rejection is something I won’t be able to bear if I find out that I’m the furthest thing from what she wants.
She huffs, turning away from me. “You have no idea what I want.”
You want me.
That’s what I want to say. Because I want it to be the truth with every fiber of my body. I want her to want me more than I need air to breathe or the sunlight to warm me. I want it more than how badly I want her. Because I could live my life wanting her, always finding a way to have her in my life even if she would never be mine. But her deciding that I’m not what she wants, what she needs? I don’t know if I could survive that.
“Hayden,” she pleads. She doesn’t say please, but I feel it leak from her quivering lips. When I look at her, her eyes look on the brink of tears. The tremble in her chin and the involuntary frown that turns the corners of her mouth downward urge me to tell her.
I want you, Natalia. All of you.
And it’s there, ready to pour from my heart. “Nat,” I start. “I?—”
Our conversation is cut short by the obnoxious twang boinging on my phone. Our eyes travel to the countertop where my phone is sitting. The screen is lit up with the cupid silhouette sitting dead center on my screen. My hands brace the countertop, the muscles in my arms straining against my grip. Why the fuck do I have to get a Cupid’s Bet alert right fucking now ?
She looks back up at me one more time as if gauging my next move. As if figuring out if there’s a choice to make between what lies on the counter and her standing in front of me.
“I’ll talk to you later, Hayden,” she finally says, discreetly wiping her cheek as she turns to walk away. She stops at the door, hooking on her heels in silence. I watch as my body numbs and stiffens, refusing to listen to my silent demands to stop her.
My chest starts to feel tight. I’m losing her.
All of the panic that set in on the last day of school comes rushing back. A day that should’ve been spent deciding which graduation party to hit up or who would be the designated driver. Instead, all I was able to think about back then was the small smile on Natalia’s face when we said our goodbyes. How the scraping of the metal chairs against the linoleum floors and the collective hoots and cheers from the rest of the class overpowered any goodbyes I had reserved for Natalia. Instead, I watched her walk away from me. And it’s happening all over again.
Just as it was then, I can’t do anything except watch.